


Memento

by Pence



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Depression, Hope, Memory Loss, Mention - Freeform, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-25 05:07:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13827123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pence/pseuds/Pence
Summary: A series of short oneshots overlooking the relationships and interactions of those in the Fog.





	1. Mercy

A guttural scream ripped from the dying man as steel teeth tore into his leg. Shaking hands gripped the edges of the trap, pushing with what little adrenaline fueled strength the man had left in his quivering muscles. It was a pathetic sight to behold from where the Trapper stood, eyes focused from within the shadowed confines of his mask.

If the human were a simple farm animal, putting it down would be the humane thing to do. A quick break of the neck, bullet to the skull, blade cutting throat. 

But this was no farm, no animal. This was a game they all knew the rules to and there was no mercy for anyone in the fog. 

The human's struggles ceased as the Trapper's boots crunched through the surrounding brush; the signal to the end. "Speak of the devil," The human chuckled, rough against the blood undoubtedly coating his throat. The Trapper was no blind to the crimson spittle tracing the mans lips nor the eerie shine of pink on an ivory smile. 

"I don't suppose you'd let a handsome fella like myself be on his way, would'ya big guy?" The tired man asked, hacking out a laugh at his own sick humor. It was a curious thing and one that inserted a pause in the Trappers approach. A hitch to the deep breaths storming the walls of his mask. 

When was the last time he'd spoken to anyone? Had it been his father? No, no the man had been long dead before the games began... How long had he been here? 

**“Why would I?”** It took a moment for the Trapper to realize that the low muffled voice responding to the human man was his own. It was an inhumane, indifferent thing that didn't sit well with either man--given the slight widening of the human's eyes and falter in his smile. 

"Because we're human," Came the simple, hesitant reply. "Humanity. Mercy. I'll be damned to believe that doesn't exist in the fog. I'll be damned to let that frickin' bug bastard win." 

It was the standoff of a different sort with no pallets or hooks between them. The empty sockets of the Trapper's mask gazed down at the man who rested tired arms on a knee as he watched. 

**“Frickin' Bug Bastard?”**

The human nearly jumped out of his skin at the short, low laugher that echoed from the Trapper's eternal grin. It was only a moment later before large arms reach around him to unfasten the trap from around his ankle, sending him sprawling to the ground. 

**“The hatch is thirty feet behind you. I'm giving you sixty seconds to crawl to it before I persue. There is your mercy, human.”**

"Ace." 

The Trapper paused, watching as the human man situated himself on all fours and begin to shuffle backward as his minute began. 

**“What?”**

"Names Ace. You happen to have a name there, big guy?" 

The Trapper paused, searching his fractured memories for a... name. 

**“....Evan”**

The human smiled. "Now that's a pretty human name."


	2. Old Times Sake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Freddy, Jake, Quentin, David, Claudette]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of the sexual abuse of a minor and graphic images.
> 
> Despite some of the language in this chapter, there is no intended shipping between any of them. Quentin is still a minor and a sexual abuse survivor. 
> 
> Please take chapter with a grain of salt + caution.

The generator clicked and rumbled into existence in the calm quiet of Bedham’s yard; purring under the touch of calloused fingers. It was surprisingly calm as far as trials go which unsettled David to his core. His heart skipped no beats and aside from anxiety’s wash of dread tightening his shoulders, no supernatural beast loomed behind him.

There was a good chance he was overreacting given his short glances to the other survivors around him. Claudette knelt at his side, working serenely on the generator with little more than soft huffs at particularly stubborn wires. The knees of her jeans soaked dark from the impossibly dew soaked grass, certain to evaporate the moment they left the trial. 

Looking up from his end, he could see the top of Quentin’s beanie bobbing as the kid tugged broken parts free from their entrapment. It was difficult to determine if his nervousness was mutual—but if the soft turning of that beanie to the gated school behind them meant lick, it was something solid to go off of. 

Jake had split from the group at the start, muttering about totems or efficiency as he’d parted. Of all the members in their little gang, David was least concerned with the outdoorsman’s safety. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about the man—more the opposite! Of any of the four, Jake had the highest potential to survive. He was quiet, stealthy, and rarely found himself at death’s door during these trials. Of the dozens David had participated in since his arrival in the Fog, rarely did he need to pull the other man from a hook or wait for his return to the campfire upon his death. 

The loud flood of light and sound in the distance as a generator sprung to life was evidence enough that David had a rather trustworthy gut. 

“How’s that slippery little bugger get those done so fast?” David grumbled as he fought a rat’s nest of wires sparking beneath his grip. Despite his question waiting upon no response, he heard the soft breath of laughter from the girl at his left and didn’t have to look up to know a soft smile tugged at the insomniac’s lips. 

“He’s been here longer than us,” Came the boy’s reply, tired eyes peeking around the generator to meet the Brit’s. “I’d assume looping these trials over and over comes with a bit of knowledge.” 

A soft, amusing scoff came to his left. “ Longer than us? I’ll have you know I arrived at the same time as Park,” Claudette chided with the tiniest of grins, pausing in her repair to cast a pointed look in David’s direction. “And I would have gotten this generator completed already if you jerks weren’t fussing this machine further than it had already been fussed.” 

As the generator roared louder, David’s offended gasp was lost to the three –although the hand placed gingerly over his heart spoke greatly of his ‘offense’. He could tell the woman was fighting laughter as he climbed to his feet, dusting off his thighs as he went. “Well then. Seein’ as you can finish up for us, Miss. Braniac, I’ll be takin’ this punk to scout out the next gennie.” 

There was a reluctant hesitation from the insomniac before he too joined David in standing. Claudette nodded with a smile and moved to turn back to the generator. She paused however at the soft murmur from the younger boy. 

“Be careful. If we haven’t seen the Killer yet… then it’s probably him.” 

That bemused teasing smirk melted from the woman’s face at his words. With a slight lean she patted the hand he had tucked into the pocket of his jacket, the fabric doing little to conceal the tight clench of his fist. “You boys keep eachother safe. Don’t worry about me.” 

The generator clicked and clacked once more as Claudette resumed her work as David passed around her. His fingers took hold of Quentin’s arm as he reached him, leading him away before the kid could change his mind. They all knew that it was faster to split up and rush the generators—but the cost was often higher. They would never know the dangers they faced until the pained screams echoed across the trial’s field. 

But if his instincts were correct, they had to get moving faster. 

The generator grew quieter as they walked, heading in the direction of the dark school. Crows tittering and watched them with beady eyes as they crossed the street, paved gravel crunching beneath the soles of their boots. The looming darkness of the schools window’s watched their approach but said nothing as the metal gate was peeled back, allowing them to slip into the yard. 

While the appearance of Bedham was relatively new in their laundry list of nightmares, all of the survivors knew that at least two generators could be found on its grounds. The first, usually in the tiny parking lot, already rumbled with light and life—marking Park’s location away from the group. From where they stood near a shattered window still speckled with painted flowers, they could already hear a soft rumble from the basement below. 

“C’mon kid,” David said as he headed for the broken and gaping door leading into the building. When footsteps didn’t move to follow him, the older man glanced back to see Quentin glassily staring at the small yard out front, a tight grimace pulling his lips taut. “Hey. What’s wrong?” 

With a startled snap of his head, the gentle tiredness returned to the boy’s eyes as he regarded David warily. “Sorry… Just… Bad memories about—“ The words seemed to catch on his tongue, lips pausing around invisible syllables before closing with a snap of teeth. 

“Lets go in.” 

With a slight hesitation and nod of his own, David turned and led the way into the broken halls of the preschool. Haunting paintings and taunting ghosts of innocent happiness surrounded their trip to the stairs leading into the back. He cast wary glances into each classroom and only once looked back to see the tired eyes of the other man staring intently ahead. They had never discussed Quentin’s history with this place… but the kid knew about the Nightmare more than any of them and had been a great asset in beating the fucker in trials at the get-go. 

It was a conversation for another time, another place—not upon descending into the belly of the beast. 

The boiler room was uncomfortably warm compared to the brisk chill that hung outside the school. Dark shadows cast in the corners loomed like dark specters that feared the orange light that battled them. The generator rumbled in the corner of the room, bright sparks leaping from the damaged wiring on one side. Looks like Park wasn’t the only one to find the generator before them. 

As David moved close, the dark reflection of blood droplets glittered like amber in the ambient light of the basement. David let out a gruff curse as he looked for the trail that might allow them to locate the other man. The tough thing about being in the Fog was that existence had cruel prizes it reaped from their suffering. Their deaths, of course, fueled whatever sick fuck the Entity was and the spilling of their blood was appetizers. Blood didn’t linger long in this place and was usually licked up within a few seconds like a kid with an icecream cone. 

If the blood was still here…. Then… 

“Quentin! Move!” 

With a startled jump, the kid followed the panicked Brit through the winding halls of the furnace room. The steaming piles lining the walls bit at his arms during his stumbling sprint and hissed with menacing laughter as they passed. Turning the final bend of the tunnel, David came to a sharp halt and terror spread through his gut. 

Quentin came to his right and frowned as they blood stared down into the waiting mouth of the Killer’s den. David’s mind reeled as every fiber of his being told him not to go down those steps. All of the survivors knew to say as clear the from that hellhole as possible. If you were being chased and you knew there was no escape, you led away as far as possible… 

Nothing good happened down there. 

The older man blinking in surprise as Quentin brushed past him, jogging gingerly down the steps after the trail of blood. David wanted to protest—insist that he lead the way—but the words stayed gently coiled under his tongue. He only moved forward and down when the Insomnic’s sharp yell echoed through the rotting planks below. 

Turning the corner, he found Quentin on his knees at Park’s side—dark unkempt hair resting on the kid’s thighs as long fingers passed across his brow. He looked serene from where he slept, albeit the blood coating his lips and tear in his jacket certain lending little to his comfort. He didn’t stir as he was given a tiny shake nor did he acknowledge the words called to him. 

It was…. Unsettling. They had all experienced Freddy’s Sleep before but… it usually plunged them into a psychosis of sorts. They could see eachother and interact with the environments around them but it never knocked them out completely. 

David moved to Quentin’s side as the kid began snapping his fingers close to the sleeping man’s ear. “We can figure this out later…. We need to get him out of here. Claudette should be nearly done with the final generator and we can try waking him up at the door. Nothing good will come of us hanging around this dump.” 

He took the small bob of the beanie as confirmation enough to reach down and lift the sleeping man into his arms. Despite his self-reliance and agility, Jake was surprisingly light. Probably from all the berries, squirrels, granola and god knows what the survivalist consumed, the Brit mused sarcastically—cursing himself at the inappropriate timing of such a jest. 

It was as he turned with Quentin at his heel that the taunting chorus of Children erupted from the far corner of the basement, sudden and without gradient. David’s teeth clenched as his lids began to droop. 

“Insidious bastard.” 

His snarl was met with the rough hacking laugh of the demon who blinking slowly into being. The world around him grew gray and ashy through the transition; the blood on Jake’s face going dark and inky. 

“All is fair in my circle of Hell,” Came Freddy’s croaked response, the brim of his hat casting shadow over one of his eyes—the other gleaming with amusement, hunger. “And I think you’re taking something that belongs to me.” 

“Fuck off you scar faced cunt,” David snarled angrily, shoulder’s squaring as he held the unconscious Jake a bit close despite the awkwardness of his long limbs. “Like bloody hell you think I’d leave him down here with—“ 

“Not him.” 

David froze as his eyes remained unwaveringly fixed with those of the demon. He did not miss the flicker to David’s shoulder. To Quentin who stood just as rigid with the purest hatred darkening his already tired eyes. 

“What th’ fuck are you on ab—“ 

“I’ll let you leave with Jack, Jack, whoever so long as you and your companions exit this trial immediately. Without him.” The offer hung in the air, heavy and dripping with an aged fury that existed beyond the trial. Beyond the arrival of the Dream Demon. “I think it’s time we finished this once and for all.” 

“You should have stayed dead,” The boy’s voice spoke lowly from behind David who couldn’t stop the younger man from stepping around to directly face the monster. “You deserved what my Father did to you for what you did to those kids. To Nancy. To me.” 

The demons smug smile fell into a minute snarl for only the briefest of moments before that hacking, burned throat produced another laugh. “This is why I preferred Nancy. She was so pliant. Never fought back or cri—“ 

David stared between the two, brows knitting at the pieces fell together. All of the trials were locations of significance to the particular Killer who originated there. They were in a preschool of which housed the burning remains of a boiler room. And in that boiler room housed— 

“You bloody sick fuck.” 

Thinking back on it, he was not proud that he’d dropped Jake to the bloody basement floor unceremoniously. It had been effective enough to jostle the man back into reality in time to watch David’s fists connect with open air. He remembered hearing the furious snarls and slashing of blades from the corner of which David’s knuckle pounded; streaks of blood soaking into the carved lines of the Brit’s jacket. 

“Quentin! Take Jake and go!” 

It was a breath of a moment later that Jake felt shaking hand slip beneath his armpit and throw his arm over a thin shoulder. He managed to get his feet under himself enough to aid the other boy in rushing up the stairs and into the boiler room just as a generator popped into the distance, signaling the power restoration to their exit. 

They ran in silence, leaving the singing children and screams of fury behind in search of Claudette. It was difficult to find her but upon hearing the whine and tinkering sound of a door opening, they found the girl. With the soft widening of her eyes behind wide frames, the woman rushed over and pulled Jake into the Exit area, sitting him before the invisible curtain that would lead them back to safety. To the firepit. 

Quentin could see Dwight and Meg watching their ghostly forms nervously, unable to come to their aid until they passed through the barrier. 

“Just go. I’ll wait for David,” Quentin said as Claudette worked to bandage a large gash in the outdoorsman’s shoulder. He could see the protest in the woman’s eyes but they both knew that the wounds Jake had inflicted on his torso wouldn’t hold up well under the bandages. Passing through the curtain meant not only survival but a supernatural recovery in preparation for future trials. 

With a small nod, the woman helped the tired man to his feet and pushed through the barrier to the other side. Quentin watched as Dwight immediately burst into a sprint, albeit arriving second compared to Meg’s pace. 

True to his word, Quentin waited. And waited. And nothing. 

There were no more screams or crows laughter. No crickets chirping or the soft patter of rain on grass. 

Only silence and.. 

Singing. 

He’d been too slow to notice the drooping of his lids once more. God, when wasn’t he tired? His mistake came in the form of white thunderous pain lancing through his back and sending him to his stomach. Hot blood seeped from his side, wasting no time in pooling to the floor as it stain his navy shirt darker. 

“You’re a fucking fool for staying.” 

Behind the pounding of his heart, Quentin could hear the muted yelling of his friends beyond the barrier as they watched a boot push him abruptly onto his back. The boy screamed in agony as the monster’s heel made intentional contact with the bleeding ribbons of his side. He couldn’t stop as the demons body weight came over him and held him to the cold stone of the exit game. 

The demon’s human hand was quick in grabbing his wrists and forcing them above his head—the knives of his other coming to rest tauntingly over the soft flesh of the boy’s throat. 

“I should make an example of you,” The demon snarled angrily, fury tugging at the scarred features of his face. “Torture you slowly in front of your companions. Cut you into a ribbons and paint the walls of Bedham with your blood. But you’d like that, wouldn’t you slut?” 

The pain hurt too much to speak, especially with Freddy’s knee pressing sharply into his side. Quentin could only wheeze and swallow his fear as the talons pressed ever more sharply against his jugular. 

“To think you were with Nancy, my Nancy. A filthy whore like you,” The demon spat, jostling the boy beneath him when Quentin turned his face away. “I left your boyfriend to bleed out where you killed me. He was so anger and wild—you must give excellent head.” 

“Why don’t we go one last round for old time sa—“ 

Freddy’s words were cut short as a bloody boot connected with his side. His blade cut a thin line across Quentin’s jaw as he fell, stinging dully compared to throbbing pain of his ruined side. It didn’t stop him from looking up at a panting and injured King who nursed a wound beneath his armpit. 

“This is why you don’t leave a FUCKING King on the ground, you fucking cunt idiot!” Snarled the Brit as he leaned down and pulled Quentin up from where he lay. There was no time to apologize as the jostling caused the boy to scream, especially with Freddy climbing to his feet. 

“No!” Snarled the demon, fury in his expression. “You will not take revenge from me!” 

“Piss off,” David snarled as he pulled Quentin through the barrier and into the waiting arms of their friends. 

Freddy’s screams echoed for only the briefest of moments before the Entity concluded the trial complete and the portal went dark behind them.


End file.
